


Breathe

by kaalee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Dubious Consent, Heroes to Villains, The Quidditch Pitch: Going Under
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-05
Updated: 2007-11-05
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaalee/pseuds/kaalee
Summary: [Harry/Draco]  Harry steals into Draco's room at night.  Why?





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Many, many thanks to [](http://florahart.livejournal.com/profile)[**florahart**](http://florahart.livejournal.com/) and [](http://willysunny.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://willysunny.livejournal.com/)**willysunny** for their bang-up beta jobs, some very good suggestions, and for convincing me that just because my brain comes up with this does not mean they’re afraid of me.

**Breathe** **  
~Harry/Draco, 1400 words, rated R**

 

~*~*~

  
  
The first night he only watches.  
  
He waits until the others are asleep and takes out his invisibility cloak, pulling the smooth fabric around him like a quilt. He walks noiselessly to the Slytherin dungeons and murmurs the password he overheard Goyle telling Crabble one day during Care of Magical Creatures.  
  
He easily finds the sixth years’ dormitory, following the haughty scent he didn’t realize he’s been memorizing for years. He slowly draws the curtain back.   
  
He watches the sheets move slowly up and down, a rhythmic measure marking Draco’s breathing. Harry breathes with him several times, experimentally. It feels almost _natural_ to be sharing this. Harry synchronizes his own breathing and Draco sleeps on.  
  
He stares, not moving, not touching, for hours _._

~*~*~

  
  
On the third night he pulls the sheets back.  
  
The clouds shift and moonlight spills, in lines, onto Draco’s body. Harry almost laughs from the absurdity. The moonlight hasn’t shown in the room before. He wonders vaguely whether moonlight can even show in a dungeon.  
  
Draco is so beautiful and he imagines the moonlight might not be shining in from outside but instead emanating from within. He shakes his head and questions where he gets such poetic, crazy thoughts.   
  
He leans his head against the mahogany post and puts his hand over his heart, watching the chest swells in front of him. He wonders why Draco doesn’t wear a pyjama top here in the chill of the dungeon.  
  
Draco breathes eleven times a minute. He doesn’t question why he counts. He just needs to know.

~*~*~

  
  
On the sixth night he touches.  
  
He slips three fingers slowly through the valley running down the middle of Draco’s chest; lightly though, not to wake. He wants to find out whether Draco’s skin feels as heavenly as it looks.  
  
It does.  
  


~*~*~

  
  
On the seventh night he wants to see more, all, everything.  
  
His stomach aches as he reaches out to green pyjama bottoms and unties the drawstring, muttering _Wingardium Leviosa_ and slowly drawing the loose fabric downward.  
  
He doesn’t touch. He just watches Draco’s body move with familiar rhythm. He watches the brown nipples harden in the cool air and he imagines the feel of those stiff peaks under his tongue, that pale body arching toward him, moaning his name… When he opens his mouth to take a deep breath it is full of saliva.  
  
He watches the wrinkled skin of Draco’s balls twitch randomly. The twitching doesn’t seem connected to Draco’s breathing and he wonders whether Draco’s testicles twitch when he’s awake and aware.  
  
Aware.  
  
Aware like the look that Draco gave him in class when Snape was talking about the necessity of stirring some potions with rhythmic precision. Harry sucked his breath audibly when Snape mentioned rhythm, but he’s sure that Draco was looking at him _before_ that.  
  


~*~*~

  
  
On the tenth night he almost doesn’t make it.  
  
Hermione and Ron catch him leaving the Common Room as they’re walking in. When they ask where he’s going, he counts eleven breaths and then tells them that he just needs to get away and why can’t they understand. He watches Hermione look at Ron and then back at him. He flicks his eyes over to the fireplace where they used to talk to Sirius and then Ron understands. _'You go, Harry.'_ Ron says. _'We’ll cover if someone discovers you missing._ '  
  
Harry thinks as he leaves that sometimes it’s too easy to fool his friends.  
  
The sheets are pulled tight up around Draco’s chin when he finally gets there and he wonders whether somehow Draco knows about this, is testing him somehow.  
  
He leans down by Draco and listens, breathing in the scent that he’s been so close to for so many nights now. He reaches out his fingers to rest under Draco’s nose, warm rushes of air tickling the light hair on his knuckles.   
  
He wonders what would happen if Draco couldn’t breathe through his nose. Like if Draco had a cold, or lost the use of it during a duel or something.

~*~*~

  
  
On the twelfth night he can’t help himself.  
  
He mutters the levitation spell and pulls back sheets and pyjama bottoms to look at the light expanse of Draco’s body. Harry feels as though he’ll just die if he doesn’t touch.   
  
So he does, lightly tasting the silky, salty head of Draco’s penis, opening his mouth to take in the whole limp length. The scent is almost musky, one Harry’s never caught before, one he wants to hold onto. He runs his cloak around the underside of Draco’s balls, trapping the scent there. He closes his eyes and imagines the scent with him in his own bed.  
  
Draco’s penis hardens in his mouth and then Harry is opening wider; licking, sucking, tasting, trying to keep his slurps quiet. He imagines thin fingers twining in his hair and a low moan rumbles in his gut. He reaches up and rests his palm on Draco, timing his accelerating breaths with the chest beneath his hand.  
  
Soon salty bitter spurts flood Harry’s mouth and he swallows it all down, breathing through his nose. Draco makes a strange noise, but doesn’t awaken and Harry wonders wildly if he made Draco change his regular breathing rhythm.  
  
He feels his own erection pushing against his trousers and he can’t touch it – he knows he’ll come the instant he touches, because he’s nearly coming now and all he’s doing is tasting… tasting Draco like he never knew he wanted to do until the dream twelve nights ago.   
  
He can’t come all over that perfect body. He just can’t.  
  
He barely makes it to the corridor before he’s tearing his pyjamas down and grasping his own prick, pulling hard and fast, pulling his cloak apart and bracing one hand against the wall. He pushes his forehead into his arm, gritting his teeth as he strokes.   
  
He doesn’t move his hand in time to block his release and he spurts onto the wall in drips and lines that spread over three dark stones.   
  


~*~*~

  
  
On the thirteenth night, Draco’s hand catches his wrist as he reaches to pull the sheets back. Harry blinks rapidly at this intrusion.  
  
“Why are you… _here_?” Draco asks quietly and Harry can’t fathom why he’s not yelling, screaming, carrying on like Harry’s insane because he thinks he might just be.  
  
“How did you know?” Harry asks, stalling.  
  
“I felt you last night… and my pyjamas were down when I woke up.”  
  
“Why didn’t you stop me?”  
  
“Don’t you know?   
  
Harry blinks again and Draco is sleeping.

~*~*~

  
  
On the fifteenth night he wants more.   
  
This time he’s naked under his cloak.  
  
He wants to feel Draco’s body against his own, rising and falling. He wants to breathe with Draco, eleven times a minute. With him. Breathing his breath.  
  
He hardens Draco with his mouth, touching himself lightly with his hand as he sucks. Then he climbs onto the bed, whispers a disillusionment charm, and presses his body down. Draco’s mouth opens and breath pushes out from the weight of Harry’s body.   
  
Harry braces his elbows next to Draco’s shoulders and touches his lips to Draco’s. He breathes with him for a few moments. When they are in sync, he starts thrusting his cock against Draco’s, slippery with his saliva. He moves slowly at first, timing thrusts with their breathing, but soon he has to speed up. It feels _too_ good. He turns his head to the side, his chin touching Draco’s shoulder.   
  
As his thrusting becomes frantic, he moves his palm up to Draco’s mouth for the comforting brushes of air he expels. He’s so close, he’s about to come and he wants to do it with Draco, mingling cum like their breath.  
  
He tenses and squeezes all of his muscles and grits his teeth when he comes, harder than he ever has before.   
  
He feels a violent shudder beneath him and and a hand grappling at his side. He smiles, glad that Draco came, too.  
  
After he climbs down from Draco’s bed, Harry pulls the sheets back up and touches his fingers under Draco’s nose. When he doesn’t feel the ticklish brush of air he wonders whether Draco has a cold.   
  
When he gets back to the Common Room, he wonders why his breathing is still ragged. He wonders whether Draco’s eyes were still open when he left.  
  
He puts his hand on his chest and wonders why he can’t slow down his breathing.   
  
He wonders if he can ever go back to watching.

~*~*~

  
  
  
~thank you so much for reading. ♥ 


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